At Age Fifteen
by yamikinoko
Summary: At age fifteen, you're thinking about what you want to do in the future, what you want out of that ambiguous being known as Life. You shouldn't have to deal with harsh disappointment or reality crashing down on you. It just doesn't get any better.
1. Unattainable Possessions

**A/N**: _Ever listened to songs on the radio… then get hit by a plotbunny so quickly you think you're head's spinning from the impact? Well, here's my three-shot (plus an extra) in answer to that stupid mammal. Leave me alone!! I don't have any carrots for you!! (Not for LJ, you'll be surprised to know.) Inspired by the song "If You're Not the One" by Daniel Bedingfield._

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**At Age Fifteen**

**--Unattainable Possessions**

_Hearts are broken, by words left unspoken. - Unknown_

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Perhaps it's not a new thing anymore. Hikaru already knows by now that the one reason – one person – that he goes to school for… is to see her. He's not even sure when this began, really. One day, as if by magic… He doesn't know, really. Just that he is never happier than when he is with her.

_If you're not the one then why does my soul feel glad today?_

Hikaru only has recollection of one person's hand, from when he was a toddler to even throughout middle school, warm and comforting, Kaoru's hand. Yet now, he was surprised to discover another touch was imprinted in his mind, loving, kind, undeniable **there**…

_If you're not the one then why does my hand fit yours… this way?_

Hikaru knew he wasn't often given to passivity, being moody and temperamental, but what he didn't know was how she always knew when he was upset, angry, or both. So much so that he began to expect her there, by his side, offering her blunt words of advice. She never disappointed.

_If you are not mind then why does your heart return my call?_

Hikaru knows – feels more, really – that she has already become a major part of his life. "Good morning, Hikaru," accompanied by the whimsical quirk of her lips. Come college… Come college they might go their separate ways… It bothered him more than was healthy.

_If you are not mine would I have the strength to stand… at all?_

Hikaru knows many things about himself, and more he is discovering, but he has no idea what the future holds, no idea what will happen, but one thing he is content with: they are still friends now. He'll get through high school and somehow… somehow, maybe she'll be the One.

He doesn't want to give up hope but he doesn't get it; why doesn't she see him as more? If they're not meant to be together, then why is he so eager to see her day by day? They sit together in class; they talk often with or without the confines of the classroom… Is there anything he could do to get her attention?

Hikaru would sometimes sit in his room and think. Just thinking those blasted "what if" questions. "What if dinner burns?" "What if it starts a fire?" "What if the house burns down?" What if, what if, what if, what if. "What if she dies in the fire?" He doesn't know if the house would burn down, and he doesn't know if there would be survivors of that blaze. He only knows that life without her… would be unending pain…

_If I don't need you then why am I crying on my bed?_

Hikaru often turns his head in the street now when he hears the name "Haruhi" spoken. He doesn't even know why he does it, after all, there probably are a million and one "Haruhi"'s out there. Maybe it's the subconscious hope he harbors of seeing her again, even if he had just seen her an hour ago since school ended. "Haruhi" might have been a name before, might even have been a person if he saw them enough. But now, "Haruhi" is no longer an appellation common to many. "Haruhi" is the world to him.

_If I don't need you then why does your name resound in my head?_

Hikaru knows that it's inevitable that at the end of the day, she would go to her home and he to his, but that doesn't stop him from hoping the school day would drag on just a bit longer, that the club would delay just a little bit longer. He knows that they aren't connected emotionally – at least not in the way he could hope – but sometimes, he just thinks that if cannot be with her in that sense, then he cannot bear being without her in person. In hindsight, he admitted, it was more than obsessive. It was unhealthy.

_If you're not for me then why does this distance maim my life?_

Hikaru is a person, with his own aspirations and dreams for the future. He knows what he wants to do: he wants to be a fashion designer like his mother and work side by side with Kaoru in their own company. He knows that when they get married to other people, they will buy a cosmically enormous house and the two families will live together, like a big family only… bigger. But he already knows whom he wants the mother of his children to be. He wants to see twins with her large, adorable eyes and his messy red hair. And even now… that dream seems far away… almost a universe away.

_If you're not for me then why do I dream of you… as my wife?_

No matter what he tries, it won't change the fact that he is here and she is there… with another man…

Haruhi included him among her circle of friends, one of the privileged, rich sons in the Ouran High School Host Club, but sometimes, with no one there to hear her, she would admit, ever so softly to herself that yes, she did see him as more than a friend. There had been something different about him lately, and she couldn't figure out what. They used to talk together on a regular basis, and spent time together, but for some reason, they hadn't done that lately. When she was willing to be honest with herself, she would admit that it hurt, as if she were wounded physically. She did check sometimes. No obvious injuries anywhere.

She knows, or at least, the practical side of her knows that somehow, they'll get through it somehow and hopefully, just maybe, he'll be the One for her, the One she'll grow old with, the One that she'll bear children for, the One that she will be able to show her love to… always.

These are horribly idealistic thoughts; Haruhi knows that. How could she not? Yet she doesn't want to go to somebody else, but she wants love, anybody's love, even if it isn't his. "Stupidity", her mind tells her, but she's beyond listening. It's too late to turn back. After all, he doesn't love her that way.

Haruhi often sits up on her bed at night and thinks. _If they're not meant to be together, then why does she feel so broken? After all, if it's not meant to be, it shouldn't hurt this much, right? Destiny wills it so, so she should just get on with her life, right? Right?_

Even as they walk down through the parking lot to the restaurant on their date, Haruhi is thinking of someone else, and wonders at her own depravity. Around her she feels his arms, but she knows, in a bitingly cruel way, that they're not the pair she wants. Even as she is held by another, she cannot help but wonder, what she could do to catch His attention, what she could do to place herself in His arms?

We see each other every day, and despite the fact that we have gotten older, become second years, then third years, even sitting beside each other in class, day by passing day, there is a sense of Change between us. It's something that can't be helped, and yet… I cannot help but with for those days when I could look you in the eye and see you smile back.

'_Cause I miss you…_

So unique and different it's no wonder I fell in love with you. It's no surprise at all, at least not to me. In my little, shallow, protected world, you were the one who set me free and showed me the way to live. Just seeing you…

_Body and soul so strong it takes my breath away…_

I'll hold in the feelings, I'll treasure the memories, and I'll do my best to live from day to day. There's nothing else I can do, I realize that now. I'll just focus my energy to merely living from day to day.

_And I breathe you into my heart and pray for the strength to stand today._

You don't seem to return my feelings, in fact, I know you don't, but is it wrong of me to love you still? Even if we can't be together I can't help my feelings for you--please, just…

'_Cause I love you, whether it's wrong or right…_

I want to be your friend but at the same time, I want to be so much more than that. I want to be the person you yearn to meet at the end of each long day, the One you come home to, the One you wait for at the subway and take me into your arms… Even though you're ignoring me, even though you don't realize my true feelings for you…

_And though I can't be with you tonight..._

Even if… you know – subconsciously – I'll love you forever.

_You know my heart is by your side._

I don't want to chase after someone else, but I just don't get it. If we're not meant to be, is there any way I could find happiness? Without you, will my life reach half the potential I think it will with you? I can't wait for your embrace anymore…

_If I'm not made for you, then why does my heart tell me that I am?_

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**A/N**: _Two more chapters, plus one more, hopefully, that I can do. Bad, bad Kinoko. Butcher please, as it's my first shot at Ouran angst._

-MshRm


	2. Made to Be Broken

**A/N**: _Uhh, here's the second chapter. And like the incorrigible cad that I am, I've decided there's only going to be three chapters in all. Two Hika/Haru and one Kyou/Haru. So sorry. I'm sure you'll all live, however._

**Disclaimer**: _I do not own **Ouran High School Host Club** or there'd be a heck of a lot of molestation reports in the police databanks._

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"…_some promises were made to be broken._" – Unknown

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**At Age Fifteen**

**--Made to Be Broken**

The phone rang unexpectedly, shattering his broody, melancholic silence. He glanced at the clock.

'Who in the world would call so damn late?' he wondered moodily as he called into the bedroom, "It's alright, I'll get it."

"Don't take too long, Hikaru, I'm almost done with my shower," his wife's nonchalant voice echoed from within the bathroom. They had just returned from a charity ball that had lasted longer than was healthy for his temper. To top off his mood, his wife wanted to _play_ even though all he wanted to do was sleep.

"Hitachiin Residence," he had meant to sound amiable, but the words came out as more of a growl instead. Someone on the other end sniffed,

"H-Hikaru?"

He would know that voice anywhere, even if it hadn't been directed at him for years.

"Haruhi?" his voice immediately dropped to a whisper, "Why are you- What's – Are you-," he tried again, "_It's kinda hard to talk right now_."

"Isn't that the truth," she conceded with a bit of a hysterical giggle. He frowned at the hitch in her voice,

"Haruhi, _are you crying? Is everything okay_?"

Her voice came back to him dryer than the desert wind, "Actually, I find it quite amusing to randomly break down and call people at some ungodly hour of the morning when all is right with the world."

Hikaru couldn't hold back a vague smile as he cast about for his pack of cigarettes, "Alright, point taken," with an inward curse of exasperation when he failed to locate the box, he dropped down at his desk instead, "Is it Kyouya again?" he asked quietly, more so than before.

Haruhi fell silent briefly and all he could hear in the earpiece was the uneven rasp of her breath, "Is it that obvious we don't get along?" she asked, rather than answer his question.

"I'm afraid the obvious answer is… yes," he admitted, "So is it him?"

She sniffed again and something rustled that he could only assume to be a tissue, "Yea… I, uh, asked him why he wouldn't, um, stay home more and," she swallowed, "You know how he is when he gets angry. He doesn't yell. He… well, he gets cold and… and… you know how effective he is with words…" she trailed off miserably into another sniff.

Hikaru sighed, "I'm sorry, I really am."

"Why are you talking like that?" she queried suddenly, "Are you sick?"

'I wish,' he thought bitterly, but said aloud, ""No, I'm not. My-my wife's waiting for me to-," he cut himself off, aware that the statement would be insensitive to her feelings… and to his.

His wife is in the next room waiting for him to come to bed and here he was, not ten feet away from her, talking to another woman like he was committing some kind of cardinal sin… which might be just what was transpiring here; after all, he couldn't truthfully tell you that he didn't sometimes (most of the time) wish Haruhi is his wife.

It had become apparent after a year or so of separation that they really hadn't gotten over their infatuation for each other. It was enough to send him down the proverbial walk along memory lane.

Not that he wasn't glad she called; nothing could be farther from the truth. It's great to hear from her after all this time, great to hear from the person he used to – and probably still does – love the most. Just hearing her voice is enough to make him doubt his marriage.

"-go?"

He pulled himself out of his reverie with some effort, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Should I go?" Haruhi repeated, "After all, you're probably busy." Though her words remained neutral, there lay unmistakable bitterness in her words.

"No, no, I'm fine," he hastened to reassure her, and it's true. He doesn't want to hang up at all, it's just… she's really making him have second thoughts.

He is reminded of another charity ball not two years ago when Haruhi had confessed harboring feelings for him, saying that it "didn't really matter anymore" now that they had both "pledged themselves to others".

He remembers the frustration, disappointment, betrayal, despair at war within him and how he had dealt with such confusion: he crushed her to him and kissed her, he a married man of a year and she a woman of two. The knowledge that it was forbidden did nothing to diminish the sweetness of the act and in any case, she now knew he shared her sentiments. On the other hand, their confessions did nothing towards spurring them into action of any sort; after all, look where they were now.

"_It's funny that you're calling me tonight_," he commented, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between them.

Haruhi inhaled thoughtfully, as if grateful for his lapse in silence, "It might sound stupid, but…" she gave a mirthless chuckle, "I dreamed of you last night and it just seemed the most natural thing to do. Calling you, that is."

He was so surprise he almost didn't catch the second half of her sentence, "Y-you did? What a coincidence…"

Her words came back to him, amused, slight flattered, "Don't' tell me you did the same."

Hikaru gave a sheepish grin he knew she couldn't see," No, I mean, _yes, I've dreamt of you too_," another thought came to him, "Wait, does," _Kyouya_ he had meant to say, but his throat closed on him, "_**he** know you're talking to me_?" coming out instead.

Haruhi exhaled shakily in what was almost a snort, "He who checks the phone bill meticulously for 'mistakes'? If he doesn't now, he will."

"Oh," he quite know what to say to that, "Will you be okay? _Will it cause a fight_?"

Haruhi sighed, "He'll probably get mad again. I'll be fine. What about you, Hikaru?" she asked in an abrupt change of topic.

Hikaru winced inwardly, knowing she wasn't talking about his phone plan, "No… _no, I don't think she has a clue_."

Hikaru knows his obligations to the woman in the next room waiting for him and it twists his gut to know that he's betraying her by admitting, even if only to himself, that he still wishes she were Haruhi. It really was a mistake to go their separate ways.

Even now he's marveling at the way his name rolls off her tongue; it sound amazing, coming from her, just the fact that it's **her**. It does nothing towards helping him stay true to his vow of "till death do us part". Listening to her speak, it fills him with such a deep longing…

_And I never wanna say goodbye_

_But girl you make it hard to be faithful… with the lips of an angel_...

'_Haruhi… Did you just call me to remind me of what I'll never have…?_'

./OWARI;

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**A/N**: _Well, so that's that. Joy. I actually had this done a month or so ago… I just kept forgetting to post it. Aaah, typical Kinoko. Anyways, just one more chapter. Go me._

-MshRm


	3. Offended Rationale

**A/N**: _Well, the third story. Go me. I'm actually being productive for once, which is a surprise. I think I deserve a medal. Written by the inspiration of "The Reason" by Hoostabank._

**Disclaimer**: _I do not own Ouran High School Host Club or there'd be a heck of a lot of molestation reports in the police databanks._

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**At Age Fifteen**

**--Offended Rationale**

'_I'm not a perfect person…_'

"President Ohtori. Excuse me, President Ohtori, are you alright? Is this a bad time?"

President Kyouya Ohtori shook his head, effectively the formerly ebony locks of his youth now mildly tinged and streaked with stately grey, "I'm sorry, I was… indisposed. I seem to be getting older by the day," he offered his secretary an altogether too fake smile, inviting the other man to share the joke with him. It had rather the opposite effect,

"Umm… I'm sorry for disturbing you. Maybe some other time."

Kyouya exhaled slowly as his intruder left and returned to staring out his window at the sun setting over the Tokyo skyline. Things were supposed to get easier as you became more powerful, more influential, wealthier. Instead, it only consistently served to make him busier. His father used comment with a cynical smile that when an employee's personal life began to deteriorate, that was when they needed a promotion. For him, when his corporate life could get no better, it was when all manner of problems were cropping up back at his forty-seven acre mansion.

There are of course things he regrets. After all, has there ever been a person who has lived entirely without regrets? What a preposterous notion. Of course not, but like anyone wise or worth listening to, he knows enough to learn from his mistakes. And he's never quite made them like he's done in the past twenty years of his life. Fairytale endings don't translate well from paper to reality.

He had been entirely too caught up with being the family "provider", so much so that he often spent most of his day at work in his excessively lush and exorbitantly decorated office. He never meant to work such long hours and leave her home by herself. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she was lonely, but he never did anything about it. And now it was too late for action, too late for words.

He had written her a letter, by way of "snail-mail", by his own hand; he hadn't written anything but his signature for a while now. He had wanted her to know, before the courts had finalized their highly unique conditions for divorce…

_Dear Haruhi_,

_I know…_

_I'm not a perfect person; I never meant to do those things to you, and so I have to say before I go that I just want you to know: I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be--a reason to start over new and the reason…_

_…is you._

He remembered when he had come home one day not three weeks after they had gotten married and told her that there was no need for her to keep her job anymore. He could even remember his exact words distinctly: "You don't need to keep such thankless, low-paying work. I can more than support you now, so don't stress yourself, alright?"

Just saying that he "meant well" was next to useless; what meager protests she had come up with he had basically bulldozed over, convinced that it was better for her to spend her days relaxing in whatever way she felt like. He just never realized that his bride wasn't like those of his colleagues, simpering, brainless idiots that they were, easily able to spend a couple million yen within leaving two feet from their chauffeur-driven limos, no. His wife's tastes were much simpler, choosing instead to find joy in life through a day well spent in hard work. But he **never saw that**.

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These nights, his chauffeur drops him off at his front door and his butler opens the door to greet him. The lobby and hallways are well-lit and bright, the rooms within immaculate, but dark. There is no one left to use them, no one left to share the extravagant splendor with him. Just him, the echoing emptiness of the house, and darkness without life to contemplate his own troubling thoughts.

He could now see, so clearly, the signs of her pain: the wistful glance, the thinly pressed lips – which he assumed meant pain of the physical nature – that drew attention away from the film of tears in her eyes, the many sighs that meant not infirmity of the body, but illness of the soul. At the risk of sounding cliché, there really isn't anything he wouldn't give to take that pain, the aches and their scars, away.

Now, he thinks, as it's too late, he wants to go back to being who he once was, the Kyouya he once was, enigmatic yet caring, calculating yet sensitive, the high schooler that she had once fallen in love with. It really doesn't matter, but…

His restless fingers have found the keyboard on his desk once again and he realizes that he's started yet another will-not-be-sent letter to Haruhi. He's taken a brief course in psychology before, and knows that these near subconscious actions signify a sense of guilt within himself, and he supposes it's true. He is sorry for everything he put her through, and even more sorry that he won't have the opportunity to show her.

He's thought it all through and though perfection was something long strived for by Ohtori Kyouya (and something very nearly achieved), he's decided that he really needs to fix himself; he's not that close after all. He's going to start anew, and he's willing to embark on this series of self-rediscovery, only because of her.

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'_I've really been an insufferable jerk_,' he muses in the melancholic silence within the desolate confines of his bedroom, '_I knew I married an independent, sensible, practical woman when she insisted we walk down the aisle side by side and yet I persisted in being excessively overbearing to the point of possessiveness._'

He exhaled slowly as he removed his glasses and looked once again at the printout of the non-letter he had typed addressed to Haruhi; it was, in reality, only a drawn-out apology.

Tears gathered and spilled from his eyes as his glasses dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter. He had never been much for religion, but oh God, if it would help, he would pray as fervently as any devout worshipper; he wants her to hear, he wants her to know, if anything…

Whether she came back to him or not… He knows he deserves it and much more, whatever he still has coming. He is willing to amend his ways even if she won't come back to him; it was something he never thought he would consider but he'll do it and for what it's worth, he wants her to know it's entirely because of her. _Not for anyone else…_

She is his reason, and now he is willing to show the world a side she didn't know, no, she did know, and he would reclaim that side of him. There was a single motivation for everything he did, and it was her.

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Kyouya knows he isn't perfect, far from it actually, but he is willing to learn from his mistakes; he is willing to change, to remedy himself for the sake of the one he has loved, has hurt, still loves, is hurting, will love… will love.

Love may not conquer all, but when a person is willing to change to make a relationship work, it can spell wonders… as is evidenced by an untimely doorbell and an unexpected visitor. Not only fairytales end happily.

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**A/N**: _Ok, I lied again. There's going to be an epilogue. So sorry. One short epilogue that I'll get to working just as soon as I finish this author's note. Butcher please; I didn't very much like this chapter._

-MshRm


	4. Epilogue

**A/N**: _Yes, I know you're all relieved. It's the last chapter. I'm sorry it was all so atrocious, haha. I can't help that. I have more to say, but I'll just save it for the ending note. Have fun._

**Disclaimer**: _I do not own __**Ouran High School Host Club**__ or there'd be a heck of a lot of molestation reports in the police databanks._

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**At Age Fifteen**

**--Epilogue**

_Tokyo Times, the Daily Obituary, September 27, 2--4_

Yesterday, at 11:47PM in the Downtown Tokyo Hospital, Ohtori Haruhi, the late wife of the multibillionaire businessman in ownership of the worldwide Ohtori Franchises, passed away at the age of eighty-one amongst the company of both family and friends who included husband Ohtori Kyouya, Japanese Overseer of Education Suoh Tamaki, Hitachiin brand name designers, Hikaru and Kaoru, as well as world-renowned martial artist patrons Haninozuka and Morinozuka. Mrs. Ohtori passed away peacefully; one hand clasped by her husband, the other in the grasp of friend Hitachiin Hikaru. Spectators commented that it was a sad occasion, but a satisfying conclusion to a fulfilling fifty-six year marriage.

_Tokyo Times, the Daily Obituary, October 23, 2--4_

Early in the morning today at 3:48AM, the elder of the two Hitachiin designers died of an asthma attack. His brother, Hitachiin Kaoru intends to pass on the business to his own twins (Hitachiin Hikaru had no children) and when asked for a statement, remarked sadly that his brother had never been the same after the death of their friend, Ohtori Haruhi, less than one month before.

He goes on to say that the elder Hitachiin had begun smoking again, even at eighty-two years, with an almost suicidal intent despite vehement protests from the family and family doctors. He became unable to breathe at around eleven yesterday night and was immediately rushed to the hospital.

He was assigned to a respirator but, as Kaoru recounts, as soon as he was able, Hikaru asked for some sort of writing utensil to be brought to him. The exact words written on the notepad are: "Let me go to (unintelligible word here). Get this mask off". Hitachiin Kaoru was overcome with emotion at this point and barely managed to inform us that after legalities were over with, doctors complied with his request. He excused himself after he could no longer continue the interview.

Clothing stores all around Japan are closing today in his honor.

_Tokyo Times, the Daily Obituary, July 4, 2--6_

As the Americans celebrate their Day of Independence, a coffin bearing the body of the cosmically successful businessman Ohtori Kyouya will make its way towards its final resting place in the Tokugawa Cemetery. Ohtori Kyouya had raised Ohtori Franchises from the dust when he was only twenty-six and turned it into a worldwide investment. In public appearances, he often attributed his "every man's achievement" to "the strong woman working behind the scenes", referring to his wife, Ohtori Haruhi. Ownership of Ohtori Franchises will pass to their only son, Ohtori Hikaru, president of the company.

./OWARI;

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**A/N**: _I wanted to try something new for my epilogue. I think's it's a fitting end to an angst fic, wouldn't you agree? Well, you might not. So sorry. It's over now, do butcher please. Thanks._

-MshRm


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